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Her eyebrow lifted. “Oh, really? Including the part where I ruined your day off?”
“You didn’t ruin my day off.”
“Your knuckles say otherwise.” She tilted her chin toward his hand.
“Jodie. Punching Dale was my choice and my pleasure. He really shoulda said sorry.”
“Then you wouldn’t have punched him?”
Mac considered. “Eh, I still would have punched him.”
That got a real laugh out of her.
Good. He’d been listening for that laugh ever since they got into the truck.
“So you really grew up around horses?” he asked.
“Definitely. Horses, cattle, mud, manure, broken fences, hay in places hay should never be able to get into.” She looked at him. “You know. The glamorous ranch life.”
“Oh, yeah. Nothing says glamour like breaking ice out of a stock tank before sunrise.”
“Right? Or finding out your dog rolled in a nice, big, fresh cow patty five minutes before you’re supposed to leave for school.”
“And you’re wearing something new and clean.”
“Always while wearing something new and clean.”
He grinned. “What’s the dog’s name?”
“Butterscotch. Scotchy for short. Yours?”
He rested one wrist over the top of the wheel. “Toque. Not ‘took’—”
“I know. Toque.” Jodie touched her head with both hands. “A beanie.” Of course she knew. She was Jodie. “That’s so cute.”
“My mom didn’t think so when he stole the toque she was knitting and ran off with it.”
“Ha! So that’s how he got his name.”
“Right. Anyway, he thought the truck belonged to him.”
“Thought?”
“Still does.”
Jodie smiled. “What kind of dog is Toque?”
“Blue heeler. He’s a great herder.”
“How old is he now?”
“Old enough that he mostly supervises.”
“Ah. He’s in management now.”
“Exactly. My folks say he still makes a ranch inspection every morning, but after that he spends most of the day sleeping somewhere inconvenient.”
Jodie laughed. “Sounds like my Scotchy. Does he miss you?”
